


An Adventure in Ikea

by anchoredaboard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, IKEA, Platonic Relationships, bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchoredaboard/pseuds/anchoredaboard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is having issues after S.H.I.E.L.D. falls, and destroying his apartment is the way he seems to cope. Except now he needs new furniture.<br/>Obviously, Ikea is the answer, but is that Thor down the aisle in an employee's uniform?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Adventure in Ikea

**Author's Note:**

> Meh whatever I tried. Fluffy kind of little story. No romance or anything.  
> Kinda sorta inspired by http://ph0tocynthia.tumblr.com/post/123490719525/dottieunderwearunderwood-steve-needs-new  
> but only sorta cuz yea
> 
> My tumblr is iknowwhatthebluebirdssingatyou

Dammit. The Triskelion went down two days ago, and Steve hadn't slept. Sam and Nat had given him his space, but after 48 hours of alternating between scouring the internet, news sites, and government files for signs of his best friend and trashing his apartment in desperate frustration, they had firmly intervened.

He slept the night, fitfully, at Sam's, who hovered inconspicuously, concerned and watchful. Steve could only take so much of it. It's not that he didn't appreciate it- he did, really. But he was on edge, and was feeling suffocated by his friends' concerns and his own failure. So, under the excuse that he needed new furniture, Steve escaped Sam's concerned counselors' eye, and headed to Ikea.

The place was another world: one of impossible-to-pronounce furniture names, individually-concerned shoppers, and aisles upon aisles of stuff Steve didn't need, but marveled at all the same. It helped to get lost in the pieces; it took his distressed mind off Bucky, entangling it in new words and novel home accessories.

A shelf-closet-cupboard thing (a regissör apparently) had caught his interest when a rather large, long-haired, blonde man caught his eye. He was dressed in yellow, helping a middle-aged woman decide between two similar bookshelves. Steve couldn't hear their conversation, but he continued to stare at the man's back. He looked familiar. His blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but he stood no smaller than usual. Steve was almost 100% sure that man was Thor, but why would the Asgardian be working in Ikea?

He wasn't. That was the obvious answer. The stress was getting to him. Maybe he should take Sam up on those therapy sessions. Or maybe he should just go on a run. Yeah, a run was much- shit, that was Thor. The employee had finished talking to the woman and turned around to survey the rest of the nearby area, looking for other customers requiring assistance. His straight nose, his blue eyes, his small smile- those were Thor's! And then the man found another customer to help.

Was Steve going crazy? Maybe. Hopefully not. That would be rather inconvenient, especially now that Bucky was alive. Well, he had been alive this whole time, but Steve had only just found out. If he had known earlier, he definitely would have done something about it. And he was going to do something about it, right now. He was going to resume his search for his best friend as soon as he could get out of this-  
"Can I help you find something?" That deep voice was _definitely_  Thor's, but the accent or dialect or whatever wasn't.  _What the hell??_  
"Uh, nope. Just on my way out." Steve looked to leave but the giant man seemingly innocently blocked his path.  
"I noticed you seemed interested in the regissör," the man commented, contemplating the shelf. The what? Is that how you pronounce it?  _Re-heh-saur._ It should be in the natural history museum with that sort of name.

The man was staring expectantly at him.   
"Oh, sorry, what?" Steve asked, again looking for a way out. He needed to stop spacing.  
"The regissör," the man prompted, again apparently.  
"Oh, it's... nice," he replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hoping his discomfort showed enough to discourage the Thor-lookalike.  
"Sure, but it's a bitch to build." Another familiar voice; Steve spun around and looked down to see a particular billionaire grimacing at the shelf.  
"You're supposed to be good at building stuff," Steve responded, automatically reverting to sass while his brain caught up.  
"This is a whole nother level, Rogers." Stark shook his head.  
Steve looked at him and the now probably-Thor, who was grinning like a maniac now, and mimicked the gesture.   
"What are you doing here?" he asked, a small grin spreading to his own lips.   
"We endeavored to enliven your mood, friend! Stark said this 'prank' activity would contribute." That was the Thor Steve knew. It was good to know it was him and not some creepy lookalike.  
"Where did you pull the accent from?" That of course being the forefront of Steve's mind.  
"I helped out a bit. We saw what happened- or I did anyways. Satellite television isn't terribly popular in Asgard, from what I've heard. Figured we'd come make you miserable in completely different ways!" Stark supplied. That answered a lot, except-  
"Different ways?" Steve hesitantly asked.  
"Indeed, Steve Rogers, we have acquired new furniture for your home!" Steve's face twitched a little. Stark and Thor picking out his furniture?  
"Nat helped too." 

He was doomed.


End file.
